


Call Me a Fool

by DeadWalker



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Carl is a Little Shit, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Rickyl, They have to give Rick a kick in the arse to make him do something, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and Maggie joins forces, gosh I almost forgot to tag that one, seriously the fluff is abundant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadWalker/pseuds/DeadWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl finally gets tired of watching Rick and Daryl dance around each other, and decides to take action. First order of business is to confront his dad about the situation. Rick isn't sure how he feels about any of it.</p><p>“It's not like that, Carl. Daryl and I are like brothers.”<br/>“Yeah right, Dad. You two are practically married.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me a Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt/drabble thing I swear I saw somewhere but cannot for the life of me find again. It was something along the lines of Carl being a snarky little shit and telling Rick that they're are acting more like a couple than brothers. All the appropriate thanks to that idea.
> 
> Title is the namesake of a song by Live.

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why is it you don't tell Daryl how you feel?"

Rick dropped the hoe he had been digging the ground with, and turned to look at Carl. They were in the prison yard's little makeshift garden, weeding the plots and lugging water to the vegetables.

“What?”

Carl didn't answer right away and his face stayed carefully blank. He remained quiet for a good long while, and he kept pulling out the weeds from beneath the tomatoes, probably pretending he didn't hear. Probably waiting for his dad to answer. Rick was staring at him so hard was sure Carl could feel his gaze burning at the side of his head and he was frankly surprised the boy didn't catch on fire. One more weed, and Carl lifted his gaze.

"I'm just wondering why. Is it because you're scared?"

Rick just stared. "What are you talking about?"

Carl rolled his eyes. "You _know_. Aren't you telling Daryl because you're afraid of what might happen?"

"Uhh," Rick said with all the eloquence he could muster as his stomach knotted uncomfortably.

Although his brain was doing its damn finest trying to pretend it didn't have a faintest clue what Carl was on about, deep down Rick knew he was busted.

He had been having odd thoughts about Daryl for weeks now.

They surprised him when he least expected, flitting into his head at the most inappropriate of times. Sometimes Daryl looked at him, and his stomach flipped. Or he rested his hand on Rick's arm, and when he let go Rick would wish that he hadn't. The moments left him baffled. Rick wasn't sure what it all meant, he didn't want to think about it, and until he figured out what exactly to do with the feelings, he had been doing his damn finest to bury them somewhere deep down where he could safely ignore them.

Obviously, Carl had still seen right through him. The boy was way smarter than Rick sometimes remembered to give him credit for, and he sure as hell wasn't a child anymore. Whether Rick was ready to drag those emotions out in the daylight to take a closer look or not, he had to admit they were there.

All of this left him with exactly two options: He could either tell Carl that he was wrong and refuse to talk about it, or they could have an honest – albeit surely a massively awkward – conversation about the situation. Rick carded his fingers through his messy hair as he weighed them carefully.

The entire time, Carl just stood and watched. He didn't say anything. Just waited patiently as Rick struggled.

Eventually, Rick decided it wouldn't be the most mature option to brush Carl aside, or lie to him. They could talk about this like adults. Rick could explain that things weren't that simple. That he couldn't say anything to Daryl when he wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was confessing. He could explain that he was pretty sure that – no matter what those emotions were – they were likely turn out to be one-sided if he ever got around to that confession.

That being said, he also decided he would rather be safe than sorry. Rick shouldn't embarrass himself by jumping into conclusions in his haste to defend himself, just in case Carl wasn't talking about what Rick thought he was. First he'd better make sure they were on the same page.

Rick sighed and rubbed his eyes. Despite dropping the hoe earlier, he had managed not to fall on his ass in surprise, and he now lowered himself to the ground from the awkward crouch. "Tell him what exactly, Carl?" He finally asked carefully.

He had his answer when a flicker of annoyance flitted over Carl's face, and he tugged off his gloves before swatting them to the ground in front of him. That's a no, then.

"You know what I'm talking about, dad. You _know_ ," he said. "I just wanna know why you aren't doing something. Anything."

Apparently there was no way of getting out of this, now. Rick heaved a sigh and fixed his son with a weary look. “'Cause it's not like that, Carl. Daryl and I are like brothers.”

“Yeah right, Dad. You two are practically married.”

Why was it exactly that he had taken Hershel's suggestion to spend more time with his son?

“No, we're not. It's not that simple.”

“It is, Dad,” Carl huffed. “You just have to tell him. It is simple.”

“It doesn't work like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because – ” Rick paused for a while. This really was going to turn out to be one awkward talk. Maybe if he gave some other reason instead of admitting he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do? “'Cause we lost yer mother not that long ago, Carl. We had our problems, I'm sure you are a grown-up enough to have seen that –“

Carl snorted. “Everyone saw that.”

“Let me finish, Carl.”

The boy shrugged, but stayed quiet. He had taken the sheriff's hat off his head and was now carefully tugging a loose string hanging from the rim.

“What I mean that she and I both knew that the situation between us was somethin' that wasn't easily fixed. God knows we tried, but it wasn't that simple.” Rick sighed, and rubbed at his eyes before he continued. “But despite of all that I still loved yer mother, and out of respect for her, I don't wanna do something she woulda disapproved of. And I really don't think the way to go is to do somethin'– somethin' like that right after her death.”

A silence fell after Rick's words. If Rick would have been happy to end this conversation before it even started and just run and hide, he felt like he had said too much to dismiss it now. Now that he had brought it up, he needed to make Carl see why things were like they were. The boy stayed quiet, and Rick lifted his gaze from the pea plants he had been staring at to glance at him.

He was ready to feel guilty for upsetting Carl by bringing up Lori just to draw his attention away from the real reasons Rick refused to act. But instead of looking sad, the boy just seemed... pretty pissed, actually.

“You loved Mom?” Carl asked.

“Yes.”

“But you love Daryl too.” It wasn't a question.

Rick blanched. “I –“

Carl stopped fiddling with the hat and lifted his gaze to meet Rick's eyes. “I know you do, Dad. I've seen the way look at him.”

“Carl –“

“And it's okay, Dad. Mom has been gone for months, and I think you're wrong. I think she would be totally cool with it if you moved on. You don't see your own face when you're around Daryl, when you talk to him or look at him, but we do. I do. And you look so happy.”

Rick stayed quiet. He didn't have anything to say, so he just sat there in stunned silence while thoughts raced around in his head, making it spin.

He knew he respected Daryl. They were family, and Daryl was like a brother to him. Rick counted on him more than on anyone else. Rick might have become the reluctant leader of the group, but everyone knew he rarely did anything without that approving nod from Daryl.

He also knew that Daryl was always there to lend a supporting arm when Rick was at his weakest. After the whole disaster with Lori and Shane, Rick had been lost. When Lori had died, he had felt like something had broken. He had shattered into pieces, broken into tiny shards of glass that tore up his insides. Daryl had quietly stepped up, picked up those pieces, and put him back together again. When Rick had been wandering after Lori's ghost, Daryl had kept the group together. When he had snapped for good and flown over the cuckoo's nest to talk on the phone with his dead wife, Daryl had been the one to take care of his newborn daughter. Rick owed him. He owed Daryl more than he could ever repay him, but he had started to doubt the feelings he had for the man were just gratitude.

Hence the problem wasn't Carl's statement itself. It was probably the fact that he had voiced thoughts Rick had so long tried to avoid, mostly because he had no idea what to do with them. For quite some time now, Rick had been struggling with the odd feelings churning in his chest, and thoughts that flitted into his head seemingly out of nowhere.

He thought back to that one time they had been sitting around the communal table at the cell block, eating their dinner. For some reason, everyone had been on an exceptionally good mood, and the atmosphere had been warm and content. People had been chatting quietly about future plans, what they had all done that day, and what tomorrow would bring in its wake.

At some point, the conversation had taken a turn. It must have been around the time Maggie had reminded everyone it would be Beth's birthday the following week, and she would try to find something special for the occasion, maybe ice cream. Beth had squealed happily, and they had all launched into excited recollections about their favorite ice cream flavors.

As usually, when they had settled around the table to eat, Rick had claimed the spot right beside Daryl. And as per usual, they were sitting so close their legs were pressed together, shoulders bumping. Neither seemed to mind, or even notice. Rick hadn't really taken part in the discussion since he had been content just listening in on it. After announcing that chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream was the only way to go and there really was no contender, say what you may, Rick had fallen quiet to let the others protest indignantly, a smile tugging at his lips. He hadn't felt so peaceful in weeks.

He had been just about to turn to Daryl to say something about the subject, but when he had torn his gaze from the happily chatting family around him, he had found Daryl already looking at him. The man's eyes had been just as warm as Rick's must have been, and he had been smiling – a rare expression on the stoic man's face. For some bizarre reason, it had made Rick's stomach do a flip, and something must have changed in his face because Daryl had smiled even wider.

“Chocolate, huh?”

Concentrating on Daryl's twitching mouth rather than his words, it had taken embarrassingly long for Rick to catch up to what Daryl was talking about. His mouth must had been hanging open, because Daryl had quickly taken pity on him and continued: “Yer favorite ice cream?”

Rick had closed his mouth with a snap and grinned even wider. “Yeah. Ain't no better, never understood none of that vanilla nonsense.”

“Figures.”

“What?”

“Dunno. Figures ye'd be the kind of guy to go for chocolate.”

Rick hadn't had a clue what Daryl had been on about, but the tone in his voice had made his stomach flutter. There had been something teasing in Darly's smirk and a gleam in his eyes that had danced in the semi-darkness of the cell block, almost like he had been flirting. Rick hadn't had a clue what Daryl had been on about, but the tone in his voice had made his stomach flutter.

“And why's that?”

Daryl's grin had widened, and he had just shrugged. “Soppy romantic types always prefer chocolate, I guess.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Rick had just kept looking at Daryl. At the time, he had doubted the smile on his face would ever come off.

It had taken a while for Rick to notice that their odd exchange hadn't gone unnoticed by the others. He had realized something was amiss only when Carl had kicked him in the shin under the table, and he had torn his gaze away from Daryl. Maggie had been smirking at them in an odd way, and Hershel had obviously been trying to cover up a smile of his own.

“You two wanna get a room or what?” Michonne had quipped, and looked pointedly first at Rick, then the hunter beside him.

Rick had blushed so furiously he was sure his clothes would catch on fire. Daryl apparently hadn't felt any better, because after shifting awkwardly beside him for a half a minute, he had gotten up, muttering something that sounded like “whatever,” and stalked to his cell.

Rick shook his head to scatter the memory. So okay, maybe Rick had had some weird moments with the other man, but it didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

Carl was still looking at him with a determined glint in his eyes.

“I'm just saying that you look at him like you used to look at Mom. You know, before.”

Rick just dropped his gaze to stare at his hands, and said nothing. Yeah, before the world took a turn to shit and she decided to sleep with his best friend.

Carl pressed on. “It's not hard to put two and two together. I'm not stupid, Dad. I think you should say something to him, because you may not see it, but I've seen how _he_ looks at you back.”

Rick's head snapped up of its own accord. “He– Wha– What?” Not very coherent. He swallowed, and tried again. “He what?”

“The way he looks at you, Dad, when you aren't looking.” Carl grimaced, as if he found it icky, but the expression turned into a smile. “It's so – ugh, I dunno. He's all tough but when he looks at you, he looks like a lost puppy. Like he would follow you anywhere if you just asked him to.”

Rick didn't know what to say to that, either, so he stayed quiet. A lot of things making him speechless this morning, it seemed.

Apparently sensing the worst possible moment to appear, Rick heard a familiar gruff voice floating from the prison courtyard, calling his name. He didn't have time to answer before Daryl had already jogged over to where he and Carl were still squatting in the vegetable patch.

“Rick, we're plannin' a run to gather some supplies. We were thinkin' of maybe goin' tomorrow. Ye fine with that?” The day was hot and despite the early hour, Daryl was already slightly sweaty. It was gleaming on his throat and biceps and was really quite distracting.

Rick swallowed over the lump in his throat and glanced over to Carl, then back to Daryl, squinting at him in the sunlight.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Wanna come with?”

Rick couldn't help the smile. “Of course. Let's gather the ones who wanna go to the cell block to talk about it.” He glanced at Carl who was obviously biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling. The kid had some nerve. “Ya fine on yer own for a while, Carl?”

Carl's composure broke, and he leered at Rick. “Sure, Dad. You and Daryl go do what you gotta do. Discuss it.”

Rick left the snickering pre-teen in the garden, swearing that he should have been the kind of dad to smack his kid upside the head every now and then, as he stalked back to the cell blocks. Daryl followed at his heels, looking baffled.

~*~

If Carl had been a little too smug before about the situation Rick was in, he was downright gloating with glee a few days later. A thunderstorm had chosen to roll over them, dumping bucketfuls of water on the prison and the surrounding area and rumbling ominously. Lightning flashed, snapping from the dark clouds to fill the air with eerie light as the heat of the past few days gave in to an unnatural chill. It also happened to be the day Daryl had decided to check the snares not only just outside the fences, but the ones he had set a few miles from the prison. “Good place for catchin' rabbits,” he had said.

Rick stood under the overhang at the cell block door, breath puffing in the cold air, and stared. The dark clouds had rolled over them only an hour after Daryl had set out into the forest, and the pouring rain had started soon after. It had been hours now, there was still no sign of Daryl, and it was still raining cats and dogs.

Rick was worried.

He knew he shouldn't fret about Daryl. He was a grown man for god's sake, and was probably more capable of taking care of himself that any of them. He wouldn't be deterred by a little thunderstorm. He sure was taking his sweet time checking those traps, but he was probably on his way back already. Daryl was fine, of course he was fine.

Rick kept on repeating it in his head like a mantra, but naturally it did nothing to ease the knot currently settled snugly at the bottom of his stomach. He started to think that Carl's words about being married really must have had some truth to them – he was acting like a concerned housewife.

“He'll be back soon. I wouldn't worry.”

The voice at his elbow made Rick jump, and he turned to see Maggie smiling up at him. She must have walked out to stand beside him while he was brooding.

“He's a big boy, and he ain't made of sugar, he's not gonna melt. I bet he's already on his way back.”

“Yeah I know, I just –“

“Oh hey! There he is!”

Maggie's exclamation cut Rick's words short, and his gaze followed where the young woman's finger was pointing. Rick had to squint through the heavily falling rain for a few seconds before he saw it: a hunched figure at the edge of the woods, walking slowly but steadily towards the gates.

Rick was running before he even realized he had started moving. He jogged across the yard to the gates, pulling them open and ushering Daryl inside. He spared only a passing look at the miserable-looking man before he was already tugging him by the elbow towards the cell blocks.

Daryl tried to protest halfheartedly, but Rick cut him short with a look.

“You look like a drowned rat. You keep yer mouth shut 'til yer inside and warm and dry.”

Daryl snapped his mouth shut, probably deciding it was easier to just do as he said that arguing. _Smart man_ , Rick thought.

When Rick had finally dragged Daryl to the front door to the cell blocks and – with the help of Maggie – managed to get him indoors, he finally stopped to take a good look at the man. Daryl looked absolutely miserable. Thanks to Mother Nature's shower, Daryl was dripping wet. His clothes hung from his body and his damp hair was plastered to his face. Now that Rick was finally looking at him properly, he also noticed that Daryl was shaking. Full body shivers coursed through him, making his teeth chatter and his stance a bit unsteady. His skin felt deathly cold under Rick's own warm palms.

Rick sighed. The dumbass had apparently managed to nearly freeze himself to death. Of course.

“C'mon,” he finally said to Daryl when he was done assessing the damage.

“'M fine.”

“No, yer not. Let's get ya warmed up and into dry clothes.”

It said something about Daryl's condition that that one feeble protest was the only one he muttered. He didn't even try to fight Rick's grip as he took a hold of Daryl's arm and steered him deeper into the cell block.

But he did try to object when he realized where Rick was headed.

“Ho-hold on. Where are ye takin' me?”

“My cell. I'm not dragging ya up those stairs.”

Rick adjusted his grip on Daryl as the other man stumbled a little, his feet not quite in on the plan of taking steady steps. Daryl mumbled something incoherent, and Rick had just managed to manhandle him to sit on the small stool beside his bed in the cell when Hershel walked in. Maggie must had informed him of Daryl's return – she followed close in his heels, followed by Beth and Glenn.

“Is he okay?” Beth looked small and worried as she peered at the disaster teetering at the edge of his seat, currently unable to do anything else but form a little puddle of rainwater beneath him.

“'M _fine,_ ” Daryl slurred.

“Ye keep your mouth shut and concentrate on not dying,” Rick snapped. He turned to Hershel. “I think he's hypothermic. He's shaking like a leaf, he can barely talk, and his eyes are unfocused.”

Hershel didn't say anything, instead moving to carefully kneel with one leg in front of the patient. Daryl just grumbled something about unnecessary fussing as Hershel checked him over. He peered into Daryl's already slightly glassy eyes and took his pulse before pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.

“I think he looks feverish,” Glenn remarked from the doorway. “Looks like he's about to pass out.”

“It's not fever,” Hershel finally said, removing his hand from Daryl's forehead. “At least not yet. He must have been out in the cold for quite some time 'cause his body temperature is alarmingly low, and his pulse is slow. He might come down with a flu later, combined with fever, but for now he's dangerously close to hypothermia.”

Rick pressed his mouth into a thin line. Of course the idiot would manage not only to get a little cold, but get his body temperature drop in a way that would very quickly turn lethal in these post-apocalyptic conditions. Why exactly Daryl had decided to hang out in the forest long enough to practically take a bath, Rick couldn't fathom. He would probably later hear some half-assed argument about not wanting to ruin a hunting trip because of a little bit of rain.

He straightened his back and looked at the Greene sisters standing in the doorway. He would chew out Daryl later, now there was clearly no time to waste. “Maggie and Beth, could ya find some dry towels and bring them all here?”

The women nodded at Rick, and hurried out of the cell.

“Glenn, could ya go and get some blankets? Take everythin' you can find.”

“Sure. I'll be right back.” Glenn followed the sisters out of the door.

It took a few minutes – minutes Rick spend pacing around the room and rearranging his bedclothes so Daryl could lie down before Hershel had told him to relax before he sprained something – but Glenn soon returned with the blankets. He came in with an armful, Carol in his heels carrying a few more. She had most likely heard the commotion when the group had came in, and came to check on Daryl herself. The crease between her brows deepened when she saw Daryl, but she said nothing. Only a moment after, Beth and Maggie returned with the promised towels. Rick himself had managed to dig out some spare clothes of his for Daryl to change into.

Hershel straightened from his kneel, and switched into a full doctor mode.

“Alright, let's get movin'. Girls, you can put the towels down over there. Glenn and Carol, the blankets on the bed, please. And Rick,” Hershel turned to look at Rick, currently gnawing his fingernails near Daryl's elbow. “Stop eating yer fingers, that ain't helpin'.” Rick dropped his hand sheepishly. “I need to get some painkillers in Daryl – he's most likely gonna come down with a vicious flu after being so cold. Better be safe than sorry and take the edge off it before it has time to settle in. We ain't got much of those meds, but I'm going to go find all I can. But the priority right now is to get him outta those wet clothes and get him warmed up.”

Hershel paused, and looked around the small cell. “This is the time for everyone except Rick to clear out. I'm going to go get those painkillers, and Rick can help Daryl dry up and change into those clothes of his.” He pointed at the bundle Rick had under his arm.

The others filed out quickly, and after Hershel's stern command to get on with the warming-up process, Rick was left alone with Daryl.

_Okay. So, apparently I'm automatically the one who's gonna take care of things like this._

Rick didn't wanna think what that actually implied – no time for such concerns now. He made sure the makeshift curtain in front of the door was fully drawn closed, then dropped in a crouch in front of the violently shaking man.

“Alright, Daryl. Time to take those damp clothes off.” Rick felt his face flush when he realized what he had said, but he pressed on. He could practically see how smug Carl would look if he had been there to hear it. “Arms up.”

It was a struggle – Daryl was grumpy and the dampness of his clothes and skin made pulling them off difficult – but Rick finally managed to rid him of all but his underwear. Rick figured he'd let Daryl hang on to a bit of his dignity, and let him shuck them off himself. Rick politely averted his eyes. When Daryl was clad nothing but in a towel, Rick stepped in again. Slapping away Daryl's hands a few times when he tried to intervene, Rick used the rest of the towels to dry Daryl's hair and rub the rain water from his clammy skin.

When he was satisfied with the results, Rick grabbed the bundle of clothes from his bed.

“Okay. These aren't gonna fit very well, but they're dry so you just have to make do.”

Daryl was back sitting on the stool, squinting at Rick from underneath his bangs that were currently sticking in every possible direction. “Fine, but I can dress m'self.”

Rick sighed. Leave it to Daryl to be a stubborn ass even when he was on the brink of passing out and probably more sick than he had ever been in his life. “No, you can't.”

“I can,” he insisted.

“Yer teeth are chattering so loud I can barely hear ya. Get up.”

“I said 'm _fine_.”

“The hell you are. Get up so I can get these pants on you or I'm gonna do it by force.”

The glare he sent Rick's way would have been far more menacing if he wasn't such a pitiful sight, trembling so hard he could barely even sit up straight, but he did finally stand up. Rick helped him first into his pants, then into the rest of the clothes – an old pair of jeans and a well worn but soft flannel shirt. Then he bustled Daryl into his bed, covering him up to his chin in the blankets Glenn and Carol had brought in.

“I'm gonna go and help Hershel find those painkillers. You stay where you are,” Rick told him sternly. “I'll be right back.” Daryl just glowered at him, grumbling inaudibly underneath the mound of blankets.

When Rick returned with the pills, a bottle of water, and Hershel's instructions of how to treat Daryl's near-hypothermia, he stopped beside his bed. He had been gone for good while, but the pile of blankets was still shaking. That couldn't have been a good sign.

“Are you still cold?”

“N-n-n-no.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Not very convincing. Are ye getting warmer at all?”

Daryl was quiet for a while, but answered finally, teeth clanking together. “I-I-I d-don't– I don't th-think so.”

Rick weighed his options for a while. Hershel had said that judging by how cold Daryl's skin had felt to the touch and how bad his speech was slurring, he was most likely very close to hypothermia, if not already suffering from it. Getting him warm was absolutely necessary, by any means possible. After a brief internal struggle, Rick finally settled on a solution. Carl could snicker all he wanted, now wasn't the time to be all coy about this.

“Okay. Scoot over.”

Even though he was buried in the blankets, Rick could still see Daryl's eyes widen. “Wh-what?”

“I said scoot over.”

“W-why?”

“Yer cold. It's dangerous, so I'm gonna first make you take these painkillers, then I'm gonna warm you up.”

If the situation wasn't so serious, Rick would have thought the way Daryl's eyes grew impossibly wide was absolutely comical. He looked like a spooked deer. For now, Rick just stepped closer to the bed, kicked off his boots, and slid under the covers.

_God, the guy really is like an icicle._

He made Daryl swallow the handful of painkillers and helped him take a sip from the bottle of water. After setting it down on the floor beside the bed, Rick scooted further down underneath the covers.

“Stop squirming, Daryl, I'm not gonna eat you. Jus' makin' sure you warm up a little.”

Rick pulled the blankets around them, and arranged himself next to Daryl. He decided the most effective way to share body heat was to lay on his back, and pull Daryl flush against his side, guiding his head to rest in the crook of his neck. His guess must have been right on the money – Daryl soon stopped twisting around, relaxed, and burrowed deeper into Rick's side. He was thankfully forgoing the tough-guy act in favor of trying to get closer to the source of warmth. After a while, he tentatively circled his arms around Rick, and pressed his ice-cold nose into his neck. Rick tried not to flinch away from the chilling touch, instead looping his arms around Daryl's shaking shoulders. He smiled to himself. This was actually very nice.

“What are ya smirking at, officer?” Daryl grumbled from his spot. His words were muffled by Rick's shoulder.

“Nothin'. Just never thought that Dixons were cuddlers.”

“I'd punch you if I could. But I'm jus' cold so shut it. I'm gonna close mah eyes for a while.”

“You do that. And you dare to kick the can because something so damn stupid you can be sure as hell I'll follow you to the afterlife so I can kick yer ass.”

Daryl snorted, but stayed quiet. It didn't take long before Rick heard him snoring lightly.

~*~

Rick was later gently shaken awake by a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't actually planned on drifting off, and he felt groggy. Not to mention slightly mortified. The part of his brain that maintained a solid conviction that Carl was mistaken, that said he had blown things out of proportion, kept telling him that it was understandable – this could have happened to anyone. But the quietly insistent nag at the shadowy corner of his mind whispered different things in his head. Falling asleep in eachother's arms wasn't what friends usually did. It said Rick had fallen asleep not because he was just tired, but because the even breathing of Daryl had lulled him into it. It said he hadn't drifted off nearly the minute Daryl stopped squirming and started snoring because Rick was exhausted himself, but because he had felt more content than in months.

Rick winced at the thoughts bouncing around in his brain, and opened his eyes to squint at the owner of the hand. Maggie was smiling down at him.

“It's okay, nothing's wrong,” she whispered. “The rest of us just had dinner and I figured ya must be hungry, so I brought ya some.” She motioned to the plateful of canned beans set on the stool beside the bed.

It took Rick a while to get why she was whispering. Turning his head just a fraction, he found Daryl's peaceful face still resting in the crook of his neck. He hadn't woken up to Maggie nudging Rick's shoulder. His breath tickled the exposed skin of Rick's throat, and he had looped one of his legs around Rick's in his sleep.

“He's not cold anymore, I gather?” Maggie asked softly, nodding towards the man curled beside him.

“No. He feels more like a living being and less like a human popsicle.”

Maggie smiled and fell quiet. She removed her hand from Rick's shoulder but stayed crouched beside the bed. She was looking at Daryl with a thoughtful look on her face.

Rick took the silence as a chance to check on the patient. He carefully shifted under the covers, and adjusted Daryl's head on his shoulder so he could take a better look at his face. He definitely looked better. The warming-up must have helped, because though Daryl's skin was still a little clammy and his cheeks slightly pale, he seemed fine.

Rick smiled. Daryl really did look quite peaceful when he was sleeping. His features weren't gripped by that perpetual squint of his, and the wrinkles on his brow were smoothed out in sleep. When he was out cold, he didn't look like a wild animal that was ready to pounce on anyone or everyone who stepped too close. He looked like a guy who just needed a good rest, his features downright peaceful and... almost sweet.

The sudden odd thought made Rick start. As if the falling-asleep part wasn't odd enough, why exactly was he ogling at a grown man, currently tucked at his side and his arms snugly wrapped around Rick's midsection, while thinking that he looked... _sweet_? He must have been losing his mind. Maybe _he_ was coming down with a fever? Not to mention that Maggie had shifted her assessing gaze to Rick and was currently staring at him.

“You really do care about him, don't you?”

Maggie's words were quiet but they snapped Rick right out of his thoughts.

“I, uh –“

“It's alright, no need to answer. I know ya do, 'cause I can see it on yer face.” She smiled gently. “It's the same expression I sometimes catch Glenn watching me with.”

Because it was apparently becoming his trademark way of reacting to conversations like these, Rick maintained an awkward silence and stared at Maggie with an expression that must have looked comical. It sure felt comical on his face. Maggie took that as a sign to keep going.

“You look so spooked it probably hasn't crossed yer mind.” She sighed. “Figures, men are so damn stubborn sometimes” She shifted closer to the bed on her haunches and proceeded to fix Rick with a stare so dead serious it made his insides shrivel up. She obviously had something to say and Rick guessed she wouldn't stop before she had given him a piece of her mind.

It was a surprisingly terrifying look for otherwise such a sweet-looking young woman.

“Look, maybe it's the way the two of you are with each other, but I can see that ya really have somethin' special going on there. Daryl was a total jerk before you came along.” She lifted her hand when Rick opened his mouth to protest. “I know, he's not a jackass anymore, but he was. He was crude, and rude, and he didn't really trust anybody. But he trusts you. Daryl's a good guy – thanks to you, we can all see that now – and I'm not saying that he doesn't put some faith in all of us now, but the trusts you more than anyone else.”

To Rick's surprise, Maggie paused to reach out and carefully brush a lock of hair from the sleeping hunter's face and tucked it behind his ear. Daryl didn't even stir. “He looks at ya in this special way. Like you're the home he never had.”

A knot was forming in Rick's stomach again, and his heart was constricting painfully. Carl's voice in his mind remarked that it was probably because she was telling the truth. Like Carl, she was voicing things Rick had been too much of a coward to even think about, and it made him want to turn tail and run. Rick shushed the voice, and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

“I'm not one to tell a man his business or anythin', but I'll just say this: the thing between ya two wasn't common even Before. But now that the world is what it is, I'd say it's downright miracle.” Maggie smiled at Rick, her gaze flitting to Daryl and then back to his face. “I'd hold on to it with tooth and nail if I was you.”

One last smile at the two of them, and Maggie got up and swept out of the room, leaving Rick stare after her.

Carl chose that exact moment to flip the curtain aside and stroll in. With one look, he took in the sight of his dad, the man sleeping like an overgrown rag doll beside him, and the arms Rick still had possessively wrapped around his shoulders. Carl didn't say anything, but he looked so smug he might choke. Rick just couldn't catch a break, could he?

“Hey, Dad. How's Daryl?”

Rick narrowed his eyes at his son. “Better.”

“Warmer?”

Rick's squint turned into a full-blown glare. “Carl, if ye got something to say, just say it.”

Carl just smirked. “Nope.”

“Spit it out.”

Some of the self-satisfaction seemed to drain out of him as Carl heaved a sigh, puffing his cheeks as he exhaled. He stepped up to the bed and, stopping to push some of the blankets aside, sat at the foot of it. The stare he fixed Rick with made him seem much older than he actually was.

“I don't know, Dad. I just think you should tell him.”

Rick blanched. “Carl, not here,” he whispered, casting a glance at Daryl, cradled in his arms. “We can talk about this later.”

“Oh come on, Dad.” Carl rolled his eyes. “Look at him. He's so deep under he wouldn't hear a bomb drop, he isn't gonna wake up. Just hear me out.” Before Rick could protest, we went on, picking at the corner of the duvet closest to him as he spoke. “Like I was saying, I think you should just tell him. Say something. I don't really know how that stuff works or any of that –“

Rick added one more item to the list of things that made his throat close up: sometimes he forgot that Carl hadn't actually gotten the chance to live the normal life of teenagers, with first crushes and awkward dates.

“ – but you should know. Just say it to him when he wakes up. And don't tell me that you don't know what I'm talking about when you're practically holding Daryl in your lap.”

Well, he was kinda right, but before he could think of an answer, a sudden thought struck him. Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his son. “Carl, did you send Maggie here earlier?”

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. He could see from the way Carl's eyes widened that the boy hadn't had anything to do with Maggie's visit, but that he realized what Rick's question implied. He must have realized what she most likely had been talking about with Rick.

Jesus, how transparent was he, exactly, that every other person in their group had decided to confront him about the complicated situation he had found himself in? Rick cursed in his head and watched in dread as a delighted smile make a comeback on Carl's face.

“She was here?”

“I, uh.” Guess it was too late to deny it now. “Yeah, she stopped by.”

“And what did she say to you? Why would I have asked her to come here?”

Rick could tell that Carl already knew. He kept his mouth shut, and that seemed to be a confirmation enough for the boy.

“Ha! I knew it!” Carl squealed. He was cut short by a hasty  _shush_ as Rick felt Daryl twitch at the sudden sound. “Sorry,” Carl whispered before continuing in a lowered voice. “She asked you about you and Daryl, didn't she? I know she did, she can see it, too.”

Rick sighed. This whole _Dr. Phil_ nonsense his son and that Greene girl were putting him through were really sapping all the energy out of him. “Yeah, she did. And now, don't assume yer right just because now ye have someone to back you up, 'cause it still ain't that simple and Maggie doesn't know what she's talking about.” Carl's face fell before settling into the familiar determined look. “– but I promise I'll, uh, talk to Daryl, if ya promise to quit pestering me.”

Carl's face had lit up again like a lighthouse before Rick had even gotten the whole sentence out of his mouth, and he jumped up to stare at his dad with a gleam in his eyes. His excited yelp was so loud Rick had to hush him again. How Daryl managed to sleep in this racket was beyond Rick. He really must have been out cold.

Rick lowered his voice a few more notches before he went on. This really wasn't something he wanted Daryl to hear yet. “That doesn't mean I'll... that anythin' is gonna change. But I promise I'll try to talk to him about it.”

Carl beamed at him. “Okay Dad! I'll go find Maggie.”

“Now wait hold on that wasn't –“ Rick started but snapped his mouth shut. Carl had already bounded out of the room.

_What is it with these people, why are they so obsessed with me?_

Shifting his head on the pillow, Rick's eyes landed on the plate of food Maggie had brought over. It still sat on the stool beside the bed, untouched, and must have gone cold already. His stomach let out a growl. He realized he couldn't actually remember the last time he ate and cold or not, he'd still rather eat than brood with an empty stomach. Reaching over, carefully avoiding jostling Daryl, Rick grabbed the plate and dug into the beans. He would think about this whole mess when Daryl was better, now wasn't the time.

And he would worry about those two matchmakers later.

~*~

A few days went by before Rick decided he was really ready to think about anything. He spent the time mothering Daryl and consciously avoiding thoughts about anything other than making his reluctant patient well again.

And reluctant was putting it mildly. Despite the constant grumbling, complaining, and angry squints thrown his way, Rick had patiently nursed him. Daryl was behaving like a caged wild animal but it fell second to Rick's sheer determination, if only barely – a few times he had to stop Daryl physically from leaving his sick bed, and once he hadn't caught Daryl until he was already out the door, on his way out of the prison gates. Rick had scolded him and all but dragged him back inside.

“I will not let that fever of yers make a comeback. So you jus' sit tight 'til yer better.”

Daryl had flopped back into his bed, and sulked.

During those few days, Rick had also avoided thinking about that night of warm-up cuddling. When Daryl had finally woken up from his semi-coma the morning after, Rick had been sure the man would go ballistic. Rick's eyes had fluttered open almost an hour before Daryl's, and he had watched the sleeping man beside him with an ever-growing dread. Would he remember where he was, or had he been so disoriented he'd agreed to stay in Rick's bed only because he was too delirious to refuse?

As usual, Daryl managed to surprise Rick completely. He had slowly blinked awake at Rick's side, and turned his gaze on the pair of anxious blue eyes staring at him. Instead of trying to run away, he had just looked a bit confused before asking for water. There had been nothing on his face that indicated he felt awkward about the situation – as if he and Rick regularly slept in the same bed together. Rick had left to get him a fresh bottle with a baffled look on his face and strange thoughts racing in his head.

Neither of them had mentioned that night since, but somehow Rick got the impression that Daryl was fine with it. Unlike Rick had assumed, Daryl didn't freak out, and never demanded to know Rick's reasons for such behavior. His best guess was that Daryl had finally understood what motivated most of what Rick did for him: they were family, and that meant they would take care of each other. Even if Daryl hadn't had people in his life before that watched out for him, he did now, and he would just have to get used to it.

He sorely hoped Daryl didn't have a clue about the more ulterior motives. Rick just might have enjoyed that odd cuddling more than he cared to admit to anyone – not even to himself.

The others he wasn't so sure about. Something absolutely mystifying was happening in the prison, and Rick didn't even want to think about what it meant. He was pretty sure he already knew. Ever since Hershel had declared Daryl to be healthy enough to be released from his sickbed, the situation had been slowly spinning out of control.

The secretive glances Maggie and Carl had been throwing Rick and Daryl's way seemed now to be the standard way every single person in the prison looked at the two of them, and it went on for over a week.

There was Glenn, beaming at Rick when he, Glenn, and Daryl had been at the prison fences disposing of the walker herd that had swept past the previous night. Rick had turned around from his task after clapping Daryl on the shoulder, and found Glenn staring at him with that encouraging expression. There was Tyreese who winked at Rick once when the two of them walked past him side by side, on their way to a run – Daryl had been resting a casual hand on Rick's arm as he had talked. There was Michonne who Rick sometimes caught murmuring at Daryl, smirking, while the man fidgeted awkwardly.

Even Hershel, of all people, seemed to be in on it.

“You two really do work well together,” he remarked once approvingly when he saw Daryl help Rick with Judith. Daryl had stepped forward to take Lil' Asskicker from Rick's arms so Rick could concentrate on cleaning his gun. They were used to moving around one another so seamlessly that neither of them had said a word – Rick hadn't asked for help, and Daryl didn't need to be told. Their communication rarely required words these days.

Rick stammered something about brotherhood and Daryl being his right-hand man, but trailed off eventually.

Was it really that obvious? Rick himself had trouble wrapping his head around the concept that he might actually have... feelings... for another man. How could the others jump to conclusions so easily?

~*~

It was a day later when push really came to shove. Trying to avoid the thoughts cluttering his head, Rick had been busying himself in the prison yard all morning. It wasn't like there wasn't plenty of things to do, and he had figured putting his nervous pent-up energy to a good use wasn't such a bad idea. He had been avoiding both Maggie and Carl, and even steered clear of Daryl for a while. Putting some distance between them so he could clear his head properly had sounded like the best idea at the moment.

He really needed to think and decide once and for all what his feelings regarding this whole situation were. After that, he'd need to muster all the courage he had and have that talk with Daryl.

He should have figured Carl would find some way to intervene even from a distance. When Daryl had emerged from the cell blocks, crossbow flung on his shoulder and obviously heading out, Rick had seen the boy jog after him. He had been too far away to make out the words, but he did see their faces – Carl's serious, and Daryl listening to him with a raised eyebrow. After a few nerveracking moments, Carl had turned on his heels and went back inside. Daryl had left to go about his business looking perfectly normal, and Rick had been none the wiser.

It was extremely unsettling.

_What the hell had the boy said to Daryl? Surely Carl wasn't rash enough to actually run out and tell Daryl something himself? Was he?_

Rick got his answer when Daryl returned. Right after walking back through the prison gates, the man strode right over to the corner of the yard where Rick was trying to fix a leaking water pail. He was now looming over Rick, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Carl told me you had something to say to me. Something important.”

Rick felt the color drain from his face. _He was gonna strangle that boy._ “Uh, it's nothing,” he lied quickly. “He's just bein' nosy. It's nothin'.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing, really. Could you hand me those pliers over there.”

Daryl ignored the weak attempt at distraction and squinted at him suspiciously. “Ye got me really interested now. Spit it out.”

“I mean it, Daryl, it's nothing. Just let it go.”

"Tell me."

“No, Daryl, really. It's nothing.”

“Tell. Me,” Daryl growled, his teeth grinding. “If it's about that run ya said ya wanna go on alone I already told ya that ain't gon –“

 _Oh for fuck's sake_.

"I love you, you stubborn ass,” Rick snapped.

A deafening silence fell over them. Rick couldn't tell how long it lasted, but he thought that if he estimated it to be a few lifetimes, he probably wasn't that far off. During that silence, Daryl just stared at him. He just looked at Rick like he had suddenly grown a third arm and spurted scales, and Rick was staring helplessly back at him. What could Rick say? What does one really say after accidentally slipping out a love confession out of the blue? Can he really blame the other person for not knowing how to respond?

As Daryl was staring at him like a spooked animal, Rick realized that, although he hadn't actually make a conscious decision to blurt them out, he meant those words. At some point, his brain must have come to a conclusion of its own about how exactly he felt about Daryl, and just hadn't bothered to inform him about it before spilling the words out of his mouth.

The silence ticked on.

After a time that felt like a slow few hundred years, Daryl blinked slowly, and finally narrowed his eyes. "Why?" he asked uncertainly.

Rick's brows furrowed for half a second. For all intents and purposes, Daryl sounded like he really didn't get it. Like he honestly didn't understand what Rick was saying.

 _Why does he act like nobody's ever_ – ?

_Oh._

With a sudden start, Rick realized why Daryl must have looked so confused: this was probably the first time anyone ever told Daryl that they loved him. God only knew he had gone through some tough shit in his life, and judging from what Rick knew about the kind of people he had hung out with before, they weren't the kind that actually would have cared about Daryl. Merle might have felt responsible for his little brother in some sick and twisted way, but Rick doubted he actually loved him. Despite of his high talk of always putting family first he had always been the first one to throw Daryl under the bus if it meant he could save his own hide. And that wasn't love.

The thought made Rick unreasonably angry.

 _It doesn't matter,_ he thought furiously _. I might not have realized it until about eight seconds ago but I sure as hell do love him, I meant what I just said, and I'll make him see it._

Rick took a deep breath, and leveled a stare at the other man. Daryl deserved to hear this while Rick looked him square in the eye. _Here goes nothing_. "Beats me, but I do, and I think I've loved you for a good while now. And don't ya dare tell me that you ain't worth it, 'cause that's bullshit. You think you're nothing, a nobody, but yer everythin' to me. Yer always there, and I'd trust my life into your hands without hesitating.

“Yer worth it 'cause you love Judith and Carl like they were yer own, and I know you'd die for them. Yer the toughest son of a bitch I know, but you don't even realize how gentle you are – I've seen ye plunge a knife into a walker so deep you were up to your elbows in blood and guts, but just moments after that I saw you feed Lil' Asskicker with those same hands, holding her like she was glass.

The corners of Rick's mouth tugged into a smile. “I love you because you eat with your hands I think it's disgusting but I still like it. 'Cause you snore when yer drunk, and you look ridiculously soppy when ya sleep. Because I once woke up to you sittin' by my bed, humming into my ear when I was havin' a nightmare – you can't sing shit, but you tried to hum my favorite song 'cause you knew it'd help.

“And I want to protect you. When I heard what that _Governor –_ ” the word twisted in Rick's mouth in an ugly way “– had made Merle do to ya in that arena in Woodbury, I wanted to tear that one-eyed human scum's limbs off and make him die screamin' – and I would have done it if I had gotten my hands on him. In fact, I wanna rip out the throats of anyone or everyone who ever tries to hurt you again and make sure the scars you have now are gonna be the last ones you ever carry.

“I love you because yer home, yer family. If I could crawl under your skin and live there, I would. I love you, and it doesn't make any sense, and this whole thing is probably gonna be an absolute fuckin' disaster –“ Rick paused for a few heartbeats, his voice faltering, “– but I don't think I care.”

Rick stopped to suck air into his constricting lungs. He felt breathless. Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an overkill. He meant every single word that had just stumbled out of his mouth, but he didn't know how exactly he should expect them to be received.

It was entirely possible that Daryl didn't even feel the same way. Rick might have misread all those signs he thought that were there, the same signs Carl, Maggie, and the others had made him see. Maybe they had all been misled, and this was a terrible mistake.

The thought got its confirmation when Rick took in Daryl's face. He was gawking at Rick with a blank expression, mouth hanging open. It made Rick's stomach twist and a cold weight settle into his chest. He felt panic rising up. What if Daryl really wasn't interested, and Rick had just poured his whole heart out at him?

Rick also realized he really, really wanted to kiss Daryl, just to know what it was like. What if this was his only chance? What if this was the only possible moment when he could feign ignorance, and pretend to have misread Daryl's face if he didn't like it? If this was the only shot he would ever get to step forward, grab a hold of those ridiculous bangs of his, and find out once and for all what those lips tasted like?

The thoughts were enough to spur Rick into action without any further consideration. Daryl was still staring at him, mouth slightly open, hands limply at his sides. He looked absolutely dumbfounded.

 _Screw it. In for the penny, in for the pound,_ Rick thought. He closed the few steps between them, and – cupping Daryl's face gently between his calloused hands – pressed his lips firmly on that slack mouth.

It was just a soft press of lips, chaste and sweet. It was nothing like Rick expected but everything he had hoped for – those lips were surprisingly soft. And it felt so right Rick was sure he could hear something click into place, and he thought he might actually do something as dramatic as pass out.

The man he was currently kissing, however, didn't seem to feel the same. With cold dread curling at his stomach, Rick soon realized that Daryl wasn't responding in any way. The man was absolutely frozen in place, his slightly-parted lips pressed against Rick's, and he just... stood there. Rick had automatically closed his eyes to savor the contact but Daryl's must have remained open. He could almost feel their burning gaze, even if they were too close to Rick's face to properly focus.

Rick's heart sank to his feet, and panicked thoughts started skittering across his mind.

_Oh god I was right, he doesn't like this. I've miscalculated, he really didn't want this. He sure as hell didn't want me to kiss him, why did I ever think that was a good idea? After a rave like that? How could I've been so stupid, oh god what do I do now._

He had just made the decision that beating a hasty retreat was the best course of action, when Daryl finally snapped out of it. Rick wouldn't have been surprised if the change in Daryl's mental state had actually been audible. It was so sudden.

Rick was in the middle of stepping away from Daryl, a half an inch already between their mouths, when the motion was aborted by Daryl's vice grip grabbing a hold of the back of Rick's neck.

"Don't. Ya. _Dare_. Grimes," Daryl growled.

The words were punctuated by teeth ground together and Daryl's breath puffed against Rick's face. The voice so husky it was almost unrecognizable, and it was doing funny things to Rick's body. His insides were apparently experimenting with the possibilities of swapping the places of every organ in his body, and his blood must have turned a few hundred degrees hotter. It felt like liquid fire coursing through his veins.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, what is he saying. He shouldn't be allowed to sound like that._

_He is also never allowed to stop sounding like that._

Daryl grabbed a hold of the front of Rick's shirt, and pushed. He walked him backwards until Rick felt his back connect with the closest wall, and he was tightly pinned between Daryl and the concrete surface. Daryl's hand – the one that wasn't busy with twisting itself in Rick's hair – gripped a hold of Rick's waist, and he gave Rick a look that made his jeans seem a little too tight. It was downright predatory, and so possessive it made Rick's knees weak. _Try to run again and I'll eat you alive_ , seemed to be the general message it conveyed.

_Okay, so maybe he didn't think it was so horrible after all?_

Daryl answered Rick's silent inner monologue by tightening the hands on Rick's neck and waist, and pressing himself tightly against Rick. He crowded closer until their whole upper bodies were pressed together, from their chests to their knees.

He closed the gap between their mouths, and this time there was nothing unresponsive about it. The shy press of lips was a pale memory as the stubble on Daryl's face scraped Rick's chin. This time it was Rick's turn to freeze, but he recovered after a few stunned seconds – no way in hell he was going to let this chance slip by. His hands, dropped when he had been about to step back, found their way back to press on either side of Daryl's face.

The kiss was open-mouthed, devouring, and so heated Rick was sure he would go up in smoke. At the swipe of Daryl's tongue along his lips, Rick opened his mouth, and there it was: the taste. It was like smoke and a good glass of whiskey, gunpowder and Georgia sunrises. He wasn't a man of words, but he felt like he could write sonnets about that taste. At the back of it all, there was an aftertaste of something that Rick eventually decided must had been just _Daryl_. He tasted the same as he smelled and Rick wanted to pull that tang out of Daryl's mouth and into his own tongue so he could inspect it closer. He wanted to savor it.

It was intoxicating. Rick wasn't one for addictions but he might have just found his drug of choice. Whether he liked it or not, Daryl had just committed himself to a life-long contract that entailed he kissed Rick to let him bask in this feeling again. This was something he would no longer be able to live without – now that he'd gotten a taste, Rick was sure he would never see the day when he finally got enough of it. He would spend the rest of his life chasing this taste and the heady feeling that made his head swim and legs weak. Daryl would just have to deal with it.

He could blame himself.

Gaining confidence, Rick moved to trail kisses down the corner's of Daryl's mouth. He pressed a line of them along the jawline, one below the ear, and the rest down his throat. Not able to resist, he added a touch of teeth to the one he placed to the place where Daryl's neck joined his shoulders. Just a careful nip. The grip on Rick's neck tightened to be on just this side of painful, and Daryl _growled_.

Rick's brain promptly short-circuited. It felt like something sizzled and popped inside his head.

_Oh no, have mercy, that so isn't fair, oh god._

The sound was a rippling, resonating rumble from deep in Daryl's throat that did funny things to Rick's insides and drained all the blood from his head. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to have just enough time to take in the sight of Daryl's eyes, pupils blown impossibly wide, before the man lunged forward again. Rick was sure he wasn't gonna survive this, but he was surprisingly okay with it. The possibility that Daryl was trying to eat him alive was very real. The man sure didn't half-ass anything.

After an indeterminable amount of time, they did finally come up for air. A shame, really. Rick just might have been fine with death by Daryl eating his face. Both of them were out of breath and they stood there for a while, looking at each other and panting.

Daryl finally cleared his throat and leered at Rick. “Nice speech, Officer Friendly. Anythin' else ya like about me?”

“Uh.” Rick raked his eyes over the man in front of him. “You have a nice ass and ya actually look really hot when ya kill stuff?”

Daryl smacked his arm. “Some smart mouth you are.”

Rick gave him a saucy grin of his own in return. He felt giddy, and it loosened his tongue in an alarming way. “I can show you just how smart it is if you'll let me,” he threw back confidently and watched the tips of Daryl's ears flush scarlet.

“Shut it, Grimes, or I'll take ya up on that offer.”

“I'm counting on it.”

They were grinning stupidly at each other, still holding on to whatever limb or piece of clothing of the other man was closest to them, when Rick finally recovered enough to remember where they actually were. He had forgotten they were in a public place. It dawned on him they had quite enthusiastically been making out in prison yard, in broad daylight, and anyone passing by could have seen them. Rick's head whipped around, settling on a figure standing a yew dozen yards from them.

“Oh don't mind me. I haven't had this much action in months,” Michonne quipped from where she was grinning at them. She had a shovel in one hand, a bucket of water dangling from the other.

If Rick was the kind of guy to believe in God, this would be right about the time he'd pray the ground would swallow him up. He was sure he was blushing furiously.

Michonne just smiled. “Seriously, no need for those sheepish looks. The rest of us aren't exactly blind so everyone kinda already knew. I'm more surprised it took you two this long.”

Her smile grew even brighter, her pearly white teeth flashing. She turned to look at the hunter who looked like he was currently busy concentrating on sinking through the concrete below him. “And Daryl – ” He lifted his gaze to glance at Michonne. She pointedly looked Rick up and down, then back at him. “I really don't blame you.”

Rick let out a strangled sound, flushing even deeper shade of scarlet. Michonne was already striding away, tittering to herself, as he turned around to glance at Daryl's reaction – only to find the man laughing soundlessly. Quiet chortles that made it look like he was just about to choke where making Daryl's body shake soundlessly.

“Something funny?” Rick asked dryly but couldn't quite keep the smile off his own face.

Daryl hiccuped for a while before he was finally able to answer. “Nah, just looks like the cat might be outta the bag.”

“You don't say.”

“Think anyone has anything against– against this?”

“As if. Have you seen how everyone's been behaving lately?”

Daryl snorted. “Uh, yeah. You noticed it too, huh?”

“Was kind of hard to miss. I thought everyone had gone outta their minds.”

They fell quiet for a moment. After a pause, Daryl finally broke the silence. “Do ya think Carl's gonna be fine with this?” His voice sounded casual enough, but the tense line of his shoulders and the deep line between his brows betrayed his thoughts. He really wasn't sure what Rick's answer would be. The poor guy really must have been thinking that Carl would be upset by this.

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about that,” Rick laughed. “He was the one who set this whole thing up.”

Daryl's answering gawk really was quite comical. “He what?”

“Yeah. He came to me sometime ago and asked me point blank why I didn't tell you how I felt. He was really quite insistent about it.”

Daryl was quiet for a few heartbeats. The whole thing seemed to dawn on him finally. “So that's what that whole 'Rick's got somethin' important to tell you' nonsense was all about. He made me come over and ask you about it. I just thought that ya really had somethin' to say but blurted out somethin' else by accident.”

“No. That's what he wanted me to tell ya.”

“What a sneaky bastard,” Daryl shook his head disbelievingly. “You really gotta watch out, Rick. He's gettin' dangerous.”

“He sure is. But I gotta say –“ Rick smirked at Daryl and brushed his fingers along his jaw. It was really quite amazing how he could just touch that face now whenever he felt like it. “ – I'm thankful he was so nosy. I was never gonna say anything. He and Maggie made me do it.”

Daryl smiled and caught Rick's hand to press his lips to his palm. “Well in that case I gotta empty every bookstore and magazine stand on the next run. I owe that kid every comic book I can find. And get a Hershey Bar for Maggie.”

Laughter bubbled up in Rick's chest. He felt impossibly giddy. Despite everything Maggie and Carl had said, despite all the things the others claimed they could see plain as a day between the two of them, Rick had to admit he had been worried. He had been scared shitless what Daryl would say if he ever got around to confessing to him. Stalking away without saying anything or just punching him square in the face had been very likely scenarios. Considering that Daryl wasn't exactly one of the easiest people to read, Rick had had no idea how he would react. It bad been pretty much a shot in the dark.

And it had paid off. Not really a man for words, Daryl wasn't the kind of person who so much told others how he felt - he rather showed it. Rick didn't need confessions or Daryl swearing to stay by his side – he had already been doing that all this time, standing beside Rick like an anchor as he answered the man's questioning gazes with the dip of his chin. Right now, he was standing in front of Rick, calloused fingers wrapped around his palm, and something so tender in his eyes it made Rick's heart squeeze. It was an answer enough for him.

Rick turned his hand in Daryl's grip to thread his fingers through his. “We should make that run tomorrow, gather some of those gardening tools I needed and other supplies,” he said. “Take Michonne and Glenn. Maybe Tyreese.” He paused. “You with me?”

Daryl's answering smile was so soft it made Rick's already tightly-knotted insides turn liquid.

He nodded. “Always.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Since there's no climbing out of the Rickyl rabbit hole I've fallen into, I'm thinking of writing a story that continues this storyline. Something that expands it but can be read as a standalone, like this one. I'll see how it goes, stay tuned.


End file.
